


Hashtag Not All Archfey

by HyperKid



Series: The Fey King [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Broke a perfectly good archfey is what she did, Crack, Critical Role Spoilers, Fluff, Frumpkin and Jester vs the Cerberus Assembly, Gen, Other, Spoilers for 93
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid
Summary: Caleb’s had something on his mind since the Artagan reveal. Frumpkin’s sick of him beating around the bush.
Relationships: Background PolyNein, Caleb & Frumpkin, familiar & wizard
Series: The Fey King [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479752
Comments: 22
Kudos: 290





	Hashtag Not All Archfey

**Author's Note:**

> HK: So this took me a little longer than I expected.   
> Mollymauk: You were threatening for so long!   
> HK: It took me a while to work out that Frumpkin would definitely not be down for it.   
> Mollymauk: He’s the smarter one?   
> HK: He knows he came ~specifically~ to not have responsibility, he’s not gonna risk getting more.   
> Mollymauk: Yeah, that’s what I said.   
> HK: *snickering* Just not in Matt’s hearing. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Spoilers, fuckery, language 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone but I WILL punch the next person to tell Jester her god is fake. Real enough to heal y’all fucks.

“I can hear you thinking it.” 

For the first time Caleb could remember, Frumpkin sounded... irritated. He’d heard petulant before, kind of a lot if he was honest, and pouty. But the archfey had been too... careful? Respectful didn’t feel right, but he’d been too aware of Caleb’s unease to show any kind of annoyance before. 

It was probably a good thing he didn’t feel the need to hide it. 

He still had to fight a slight smile. 

“Thinking what?” He asked innocently, not looking up from his book. A loud huff actually moved his hair as Frumpkin spilled into his lap. 

“I. Can. Hear. You.” Each word was punctuated by a gentle poke to the back of his book. “Just ask me.” 

For a moment, Caleb considered making him work a little harder for it. But if he was honest, the question was on his mind for a reason. Not necessarily because he really wanted it so much as for his own curiosity. 

“Could you give me healing magic?” It’d be nice to be able to cast some on himself in combat if nothing else. 

And... 

If he was being honest... 

If Frumpkin’s forms ever had enough hit points to survive one hit, Caleb would use whatever he had to heal them. Motherfucker was still his cat. 

An elegant hand curled around the top of his book and pulled it gently from his grasp. Below, Frumpkin’s face was sterner than he’d ever seen it. 

“Fucking no. For one thing, you don’t believe in me like that. But even if you did, did you ~see~ what your little blue friend did to Artagan? We come to your plane to avoid responsibilities at home. Like fuck am I gonna let you saddle me with more. Be thankful I’m your cat.” 

Amber eyes narrowed for a moment, a brief glare to ensure he was getting his message through. 

“Meow.” 

Doing his best to stifle a laugh, Caleb let a now empty hand fall into tangled orange hair. 

“This is why I wasn’t asking,” he pointed out wit a fond smile. It was a little hard to even remember how much he used to fear this ridiculous being... no matter how briefly. “You do not seem the sort to wish to become a god.” 

“I don’t downgrade,” Frumpkin grumbled, pushing his head more firmly into Caleb’s hand, “I’ve no interest in being at the beck and call of lesser mortals.” 

For a moment, Caleb was tempted to call him on it. But the idea that Frumpkin might not consider him one of those lesser mortals was sweet, in a way. 

Ever since the reveal, Caleb had mildly suspected that Frumpkin saw him the same way he used to see Frumpkin; a cherished companion, of course, but essentially... not replaceable, but expendable. Humans died so easily compared to archfey, and lived barely any time at all. 

He’d come to terms with being a cherished pet. And a little bit wanted to see Beau’s face if Frumpkin called him “best human” in front of her. 

It’d be a whole trip. 

Another thought struck the wizard and he frowned briefly down at the archfey. Frumpkin had him too well trained to actually stop petting, even for a question. 

“So... will you also assist with the powerful forces we may be dealing with?” He might have had a specific force in mind when making that request to Artagan. 

Frumpkin waved dismissively. 

“Already on it.” 

And that did still Caleb’s hand in his hair as the wizard’s whole body froze. Making a protesting noise Frumpkin pushed into his hand, but he couldn’t move. 

Couldn’t breathe. 

Couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

Could barely choke out a single word; 

“What?” 

Pushing himself up on his shoulder blades, Frumpkin squirmed in his lap, intent on getting more petting. 

“The blue one asked me to the first night you spent in that tunnel to Xhorhas. It was easy to arrange and I checked up on things while we passed through Rexxentrum. It was no trouble to arrange something... special for Ikithon.” 

Almost on autopilot, Caleb went back to stroking auburn locks and the archfey fucking purred, setting back like he hadn’t just short circuited Caleb’s entire brain. 

“You... Jester... asked you...” 

“To fuck up Ikithon,” Frumpkin agreed easily, blinking large amber eyes at him with a placid smile. “The whole Cerberus Assembly, actually, but especially him. I’m planning a slow burn until you’re ready.” 

Which was just enough to make Caleb look at him again, alarm flashing across his face. 

“Ready? For what?” 

“I assumed you were going to ask me to help you to destroy him,” the archfey smiled indulgently, like Caleb was a sweet and hardworking pupil, “and I decided that there was no need to hold off ~all~ my efforts for your call. Nothing that can be proven, of course. Just... inconveniences.” 

His mind absolutely rife with what Jester or an archfey would consider “inconveniences”, Caleb’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a while. 

It was... impossible to imagine in relation to Trent Ikithon. 

“Inconveniences?” He parroted weakly, fingers twining through ginger curls. Frumpkin shoved the back of one pointed finger into his hand and hummed happily when Caleb took the hint to rub. 

“I’m a fey lord, Widogast. The man hasn’t found a single key in months. Small objects break, milk curdles, kings mysteriously find out about less... savoury experiments. I believe he thinks one of his students is sabotaging him. Oh, and I set a cow loose in his study.” 

Caleb’s mouth opened and closed a few more times, struggling to find words. 

“You... set a cow...” 

“Loose in his study,” Frumpkin completed brightly, gaze darting up to Caleb’s face. “Nothing big until you are ready.” 

It occurred to Caleb, not for the first time, that he and the archfey really were not on the same level in any respect. It wouldn’t even have occurred to him that Trent could be fucked with. 

That he could be ~casually~ fucked with, no fear of consequences or repercussions... 

He’d just seen that an archfey could easily imitate a god. 

Nothing stopped the solid train of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck” his thought process had devolved into. 

His hand must have stilled again, because Frumpkin raised one of his own to gently brush Caleb’s cheek. 

“Would you like me to stop?” He asked quietly. 

Caleb was tempted to clutch his hand, to beg him to stop while they still could, anything and everything that might put things back on the rails. He was still so ~terrified~ of Trent Ikithon that he could barely think straight, but... 

“What else have you done?” He asked hoarsely, surprised by how scratchy his voice had become. 

Frumpkin gauged his expression for a moment, then smiled. 

“Oh, your tiefling and I have had many conversations about it, while she took watch. Most recently I’ve been having sprites take all of his clothes in by a millimetre a day for the past two months. He’s only just begun to notice and I believe he thinks the robes have shrunk. Should you wish it, from next week I’m going to have them take the same robes back out by millimetres until they hang off him like a bag.” 

And Caleb could just ~see~ Jester’s grin as he said it, pointed fangs gleaming as all that brilliant, beautiful chaos turned vicious. 

For him. 

Forcing himself to draw breath, he refocused his gaze on his familiar. 

“And... he has not noticed? Or tried to stop them?” 

“He’s tried,” Frumpkin said with a light laugh, strongly condescending as though amused that a human would even bother. “He’s increased his wards after the cow, but has no inkling of how to prevent creatures from the Feywild. And almost all of his efforts seem focused on stopping this plane’s magic.” 

The archfey paused, craning his neck back again to meet Caleb’s eyes. 

“If he does work it out, I can stop, if you like?” 

And again, Caleb almost begged him to. To stop now and call it all off before Ikithon’s wrath found a target. For a fleeting moment, he thought of Astrid; she was planning something, he’d seen it, knew her too well to miss the signs. 

But she would never even think of something like this. 

Astrid was a killer, stone cold, methodical, and determined. A prank campaign had been beyond her even as a teenager; it’d made her an easy target for he and Wulf when they felt playful. 

Eodwulf... looked nothing like the playful boy he’d been. Caleb hadn’t seen much of him, true, but what he had... Trent kept the man at his side. Close enough to know all about him. 

Close enough that Wulf had probably been caught by several of Frumpkin’s tricks personally. 

And there was a tiny part of Caleb, of Bren, that thrilled at the thought of Trent Ikithon confused, befuddled, frustrated by tricks and angry without target. The thought burned under his skin like nightmare flames, but for the first time it... didn’t hurt. 

It felt ~good~. Vicious and sharp, like Jester’s fangs. 

Let the fucking bastard who hurt him, who thought himself so high and untouchable, learn that he wasn’t so safe as he thought. Maybe he’d feel a fraction of Caleb’s fear by the time he was ready to deal with him permanently. 

The impulse was crushed almost instantly, panic smothering it before the flames could grow. 

There were so, so, so many ways things could go wrong. No matter what magics Frumpkin used, Trent would find out. Would find a way to track them. Would link it back to him, somehow, and Caleb was nowhere even close to ready. 

He’d only just begun admitting to himself that the possibility even existed. 

Hand rising to cover Frumpkin’s gently, he shook his head. 

“It is not worth the risk...” the whisper felt harsh, like another surrender, another little defeat to Ikithon’s ghost. 

Amber eyes considered him for a long moment, then Frumpkin nodded, patting Caleb’s cheek gently. 

“Then I will stop. But if ever you change your mind...” his voice trailed off suggestively, not in the least judgemental even if all Caleb’s thoughts rang with “coward”. Forcing a smile, he let his hand fall back to the archfey’s hair. 

“Thank you.” It was hard to even think of how much it meant to him. 

That Frumpkin would go to the trouble of infiltrating an archmage’s tower, to play ~pranks~, just for him. That he’d stop his fun just because Caleb asked. 

Frumpkin’s eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged, smiling playfully and pushing his head back into Caleb’s touch. 

“But of course. I am your familiar. But not a fucking god.” 

And that did startle a laugh from him. 

**Author's Note:**

> HK: *whispers* Frumpkin thinks Artagan’s a dumbass for becoming a god not a familiar. Being a pet is so much less work!


End file.
